User blog:Amasa0707/Trio Based Comedy
Chapta Oun: Raincorrz One day in intergalactic time-space when a specific slice of baloney decided to screw with some dimensions… “Raaaaaaaaaghh!!” Three people yelled as they (for some reason) fell out of the sky. A man in plastic armor fell first. He hit the ground with a dud and moaned. “Ugggh… What da?” And then the redshirted man fell upon him. “Ooph!” The both yelled. They both attempted to get up, until a lady in crappy armor landed on the both of them. “Agh!” All moaned, and ended up pushing each one off of the other until they all stood. “So…” The stormtrooper started, “I’m 889. You people?” “I’m Alan Malan of the U.S.S. Enterprise.” “I’m Amani Sara of the… some Imperial Guard Legion.” “Well…” The stormtrooper continued, “let’s start this with an argument. We obviously have the best technology of the three of us.” “Oh, hold up,” both of them stated. “No no, look, our armor’s so technologically advanced that wherever we get shot, we instantly die!” “No no,” the redshirt said, “our tech’s so good, we die WITHOUT even getting shot!” “Yeah,” The guardswoman said, “We have such amazing technology that we die before we even go to the battlefield!” “… Dang.” The Stormtrooper said. They heard a roaring from the distance. Stomping raged near them, and the moist heat of some thing’s breath heated them. They all looked up at the giant monster. “… I’m not from this universe,” Amani said, “What the bleep is that?” “I dunno,” Redshirt said, “Scanning now.” “So, plastic boy? What’s this thing?” Amani asked. “I’ll have to get back to you when I stop peeing my pants.” “Scan complete. It’s a rancor… and from the looks of its body and… and its butt ugly face, I think we should run.” “No!” Amani yelled, “Never will I abandon my post! For the Emperor!” She charged up to the monster, stopping abruptly at its knee, and like a child, poked it with the bayonet of her lasgun. The rancor looked down at her, looking disturbed, and smacked her away. “Aaaaaaaagggghh!!” She screamed as she flew flying. “Run.” Alan said. “Agreed.” “Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggghhh!!!!” Ten days later… “So… so… dang cold…” 889 muttered. “Oh screw this, I’m beaming out.” The man went to tap his chest, only to grab his heart, “Oh gosh! Redshirt disease!” In his flailing, he somehow, unfortunately knocked off his combadge, “Well… bleep.” “Well, you’re stuck here reddy.” Amani snarked. “Yeah yeah yeah. Kirk will save me.” He assured. “Yeah, trust me,” 889 added, “superiors ''never ''help. They enjoy choking people through televisions though.” “Well,” Amani started, “It seems the only way we’ll survive is if we stick together and wait out this storm.” She grabbed both the two towards her in an awkward hug. “Dying’s an option, correct?” 889 asked. “No, but for redshirt it’s seemingly apparent.” “Let’s just huddle by the fire…” Alan suggested, only to catch fire. His sleeve smoldered and flared, and he just looked at it. “Maybe that fire will burn away the redshirt…” “Lemme put that out!” Amani yelled. She wacked her lasgun against the flame, and somehow by impossible means, made the flame grow larger. “Oh gosh!” Alan yelled. He ran around, in the middle of a forest, like a wild man. “Here, let me shoot it out!” 889 pointed his blaster, attempting to vanquish the flame that was consuming Alan. While that wouldn’t have worked anyway, he somehow managed to miss the fire, miss the trees, and somehow have all his shots blast into the sky. “Hold on a second…” Amani said as Alan flailed around on fire, “I just realized… we’re all cursed!” “Rather obvious!” Alan yelled, still running about. “Yes! It’s so true! Everything I touch only gains health, everything 889 shoots doesn’t get hit, and Alan can just die for no reason! It all makes sense!” “By the Enterprise make it stop!” Somehow, the fire stopped…, “Holy crap! I’m not dead! I’m the only redshirt to survive catastrophe!” “… Not to ruin your accomplishment, but I think a certain Scotsman outdid you already.” A voice said. Category:Blog posts